Forever Red

by Carina Adams

  She grabbed my arm. “I’ll come with.”

  I shook my head. “Naw, keep my spot. I’ll be right back.”

  I turned, trying to be quiet and stealth-like. Instead of looking in front of me, I kept my eyes on my friends to make sure they didn’t notice me sneaking away. Three steps in, I bumped into a solid chest. Large hands came out to catch my upper arms as my head snapped forward, an apology on my lips. No words came because my lungs forgot how to work.

  Even though I could never admit it in my out loud voice, even though I knew I was just a distant memory to him, being this close to Nate Kelly was still enough to stop me in my tracks and make my heart beat erratically.

  Agreeing to come here had been a mistake. Thinking I could see him again and act normal was a very bad idea. The worst one I’d ever had. And, with my history, that was saying a shit-ton.

  Part One: Then

  Chapter One

  ~ Cecelia ~

  I’ll never forget the day I saw him for the first time. Nathaniel Kelly. Tall, dark, muscular, full of Southern charm, and hotter than hell Nathaniel Kelly. I hadn’t understood it then, but that was the moment my life would change.

  I was sitting in second period, the English Lit half of my American Studies class. I had one leg twisted under me, the other pulled up so I could lean my chin on my knee. My friends and I pretended to listen to Mr. Matthews’ lecture while secretly staring at his beautiful face, each trying to figure out how we would be the one student that lured him over to the dark side of an illicit, and very illegal, affair.

  When the door opened, I didn’t move my eyes from my teacher. I knew I was close to getting him. Hell, every so often, his eyes would drift toward me and he’d hold my gaze for a fraction of a second longer than he should. Once, he dragged his teeth over his bottom lip, almost as if he’d forgotten where we were or that we were surrounded by numerous witnesses. I forced myself to blush and look away, knowing how crazy my little naïve act drove him. Just last night, at the end of our tutoring session, he brushed the hair off my cheek and told me he’d never met anyone as shy as me. Ha! That was fucking laughable.

  Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t feel the nudge to my side. Then, Jules rammed her elbow into my rib and I hissed, turning to glare at her. Julie Samms had been my best friend since we were in the womb; our moms worked together at the apple packing plant and we’d been born two days apart from one another. We’d grown up together, inseparable ever since the first time the nursery room teacher put us on the floor to play. She was the sister I never had, my voice of reason, and the devil that corrupted me all rolled into one.

  I raised an eyebrow in question, but she only smirked and tipped her head slightly toward the door. I followed her gaze and my breath caught. I didn’t know where this boy was from, but it sure as shit wasn’t here. Maine didn’t grow them like that, and if it did, I’d been living in the wrong part for far too long.

  He was larger than most of the seniors, at least six-two, and had more muscles than I’d seen on a real person before. His skin held a dark tan, making his light green eyes stand out. Dressed in worn blue jeans, a logoed tee shirt, and dark brown boots, he casually leaned on the doorframe, looking at the rest of us as if he had all the confidence in the world.

  Mr. Matthews paused his lesson, walked over to the newcomer, and took the piece of paper from his hands. Turning back to us and catching my eye once again, he cleared his throat. “Class, this is Nathaniel—”

  “Neil,” the new student interrupted.

  Mr. Matthews raised an eyebrow. “Ok. Class, this is Neil Kelly. A transfer from…” He trailed off, glancing back at Neil.

  “Auburn, Alabama, sir.” His voice was like honey, smooth and deep with just a touch of country twang.

  “Auburn? Did you go to Auburn High School?” Mr. Matthews’ voice changed from slightly annoyed to very curious and Neil nodded. “You didn’t happen to play football there, did you?”

  I turned back to Jules, rolling my eyes. Of course, he would turn it into a conversation about sports. Ugh. That’s what you got when you went to a high school that was too poor to have just coaches, so they had to be teachers, too. Mr. Matthews only had one flaw; he was the head coach of the varsity football team.

  Neil chuckled. “Yes, sir.” His accent was just adorable. “Defensive tackle.”

  I had no idea what that meant. Football held no interest for me; it had too many pads and not enough boy showing. But, by the impressed look on Mr. Matthews’ face, defensive whatever was a big deal.

  My friend Missy shifted on the other side of me, leaning close so only Jules and I could hear her. “Girls, I smell a challenge.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Aren’t we already in the middle of one?”

  Missy smirked. “I say we do two at once.”

  My mouth fell open and I stared at her. We’d been playing The Game for years, ever since we were able to understand that romance and love didn’t happen for girls like us, the trailer trash of the world. We’d heard the whispers and seen the looks all of our lives; we were lower than lower-class, the worker bees of the community that didn’t deserve any happiness. Jules had been absolutely devastated when she overheard her boyfriend, the “love of her life,” tell a friend he had to have two girlfriends: one for his backseat and one to bring to Sunday brunch – and everyone knew he’d never bring a Samms to Sunday brunch.

  Later that night, while drowning our sorrows in chocolate frosting and Ben & Jerry’s, The Game had been created. We decided that if boys thought they could use us, we could use them right back. Every man would have a certain number of points attached to him, from kissing him to sleeping with him, to getting him to fall in love with you. Sometimes, one of us would dare another, and other times, we’d compete against each other. Whoever had the most points at the end of the year won that round. Not that we ever won anything, other than the title and the knowledge that we could manipulate more boys than the others.

  There were other perks to The Game, too. Getting some of the more difficult guys was a challenge, and we all loved a challenge, but also the attention we received while being the object of someone’s affection was addicting. We were sluts, but we were sluts with standards. The boys in our school couldn’t figure out how we chose the ones we went after, completely clueless to our game, and many wanted us simply because they couldn’t have us. The older men in our lives – the teachers, coaches, and bosses – bought our act, thinking we were sweet and innocent while loving the idea that they would be the one that corrupted one of us.

  Morons. All of them were putty in our hands, twisting when we said twist, doing whatever they could to get into the coveted spot between our legs. My greatest satisfaction came at the end, when they discovered I was the one leaving them, that I didn’t think they were good enough for me. The shock that crossed their faces as the idea that maybe they weren’t God’s gift sunk in was the ultimate high.

  “Ten thousand points for love. Five if you can only get him in bed.”

  I turned back to Jules, the surprise still on my face. My friends had lost their minds. “Five thousand points?” I whispered angrily. “Mr. Matthews was only a thousand!”

  Julie chuckled. “Yep. But look at that boy.” She raised a finger in the air and circled it in his direction. “Every single girl in here wants a piece. Not to mention the fact that he’s from down South. Which means he has manners and it isn’t going to be a quick – or easy – challenge. He’s gonna make us work for it.”

  Missy let out a low whistle. “Ten thousand, huh?” She turned back to the front of the room where Neil and Mr. Matthews were still talking sports and then grinned. “I’m in.” Catching my eye, she winked. “You’re going down, Lia. This year, you don’t stand a chance.”

  I turned back to the front, my eyes on Neil Kelly. He stood in front of a class of strangers, talking to our teacher as if he was an equal instead of a student. There was no denying he was different from the boys I was used to. Every so
often, he’d glance at us, but almost everyone else had taken advantage of the interruption and was laughing with their friends. When his eyes met mine, they weren’t filled with the judgment I was used to seeing, but they also weren’t filled with interest, either.

  Disappointment sunk in. I always got a hint of something more. Always. I rolled my eyes at myself as I realized suddenly that I wanted this guy to like me, to like me, like me. Not for the great sex he thought he’d get, and not because I could win some silly game. But because I wanted to be the one girl that made him smile.

  For the first time, I wanted to talk to a boy so that I could get to know him, not for the points I could get. Good Christ, I was acting like a silly teenager with a crush. Missy was right; I didn’t stand a chance.

  Chapter Two

  ~ Nathaniel ~

  Walking into a class late wasn’t something I was used to; I hadn’t been late once in my old school. But strolling into a new class, at a new school, in the middle of September, with only fifteen minutes left in the period was just as brutal as I had imagined it would be. Every one of my classmates looked at me as I walked in, everyone except a girl at the back of the class. I paused at the door, looking around the room, searching for a friendly face and an open seat when my eyes fell on the one person oblivious to my existence. She watched our teacher with an intensity that I’d seen the girls back home give me; it was a look that promised much more than a student/teacher relationship allowed. Suddenly, incredibly uncomfortable, I looked away.

  Mr. Matthews seemed to notice me then. He took the paper the office had sent up and started asking about my old school. I knew he was a coach as soon as he started asking the questions. My uncle told me the school had a decent team, but nothing that would grab the attention of college scouts. Mr. Matthews acted as if he thought I would be able to draw them in, and he hadn’t even seen me play yet. He was pleasant, though, and before I knew it, the bell was ringing.

  “Where’s your next class?”

  “Uh…” I pulled my bag off my shoulder and searched for the schedule my guidance counselor had just given me. Grabbing the wrinkled paper, I squinted to figure out where in the hell I was going next. When I looked up, half the class was already gone and the rest were filing past me. “Algebra two?”

  Mr. Matthews nodded and then looked over my shoulder. “Lia?”

  The girl I’d noticed earlier was the only one left in the room with us. She was still at her desk, slowly packing her bag, and looked up at us, surprised. “Yes, Mr. Matthews?”

  “You’re in luck,” our teacher told me quietly. “Lia has that class next period. You’ll only be there for half the class before lunch break, and then the class finishes after lunch.” I wondered briefly how he knew her schedule, considering there had been at least twenty-five other students in his class. As the girl, Lia, walked toward us, he smiled at her. “Neil, Lia. Lia, Neil.” Mr. Matthews pointed at each of us as he made introductions. “Lia, Neil has class with you next period. Can you do me a favor and show him around this afternoon?” Before she could respond, he stepped closer to her and muttered, “I’d really appreciate it.”

  I looked away, uncomfortable again. Maybe I was wrong, but it felt like there was something more between these two, something I didn’t want to know about. Behind me, I heard people start to come into the room, and out of my peripheral saw Mr. Matthews step back.

  “Of course I will!” Lia’s peppy response surprised me and I snapped my head back toward her. She just offered a small, polite smile. “We should go or we’ll be late. I hate being late.” Her eyes moved to our teacher’s one more time, and then she grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the room.

  “First day?”

  I nodded and bit back my sarcastic comment as I walked next to her.

  “So, you’re from Alabama?”

  I nodded again, half surprised she’d been listening earlier.

  “And, you play football?”

  I nodded again.

  This time, she came to a dead stop in the hallway and the people behind us had to move around us quickly so they didn’t run into us. Dark blue eyes bore up into mine. “Are you always this social or is it just me you don’t want to talk to?”

  “Uh…” I stumbled over my response, not sure what to say to her. I watched in amusement as her eyes narrowed and she looked as if she was about to give me a tongue-lashing. “You’re really short, Red.”

  Her giant eyes lit up in anger – or annoyance – and I laughed at the look on her face. She inhaled sharply and then smiled, shaking her head. “Well, aren’t you the observant one?”

  I shrugged. “Hey, you’re the one asking me questions you already know the answers to.”

  She tipped her head to the side, watching me, and bit her bottom lip in concentration. I wanted to know what she was thinking in that pretty little head of hers, but it was too soon for me to demand that kind of information. The fleeting thought crossed my mind and it surprised me that I actually did think she was pretty.

  Redheads weren’t my thing. Sure, some of them were cute, but their pale, pasty skin reminded me of how Gramps looked before he died, and the bright red freckles they all seemed to have were a turn-off. I’d ignored every single carrot top that had ever glanced my way.

  This one was different, though. Yeah, her skin was pale, but she’d obviously been out in the sun and gotten some color because she didn’t look sick. Her hair wasn’t an ugly bright orange-red, either. It was a deeper red, almost brown, and she had blond highlights. And the freckles I hated? On her, they were adorable. The little light brown flecks that were splattered across the tops of her cheeks and nose were not the obnoxious spots I was used to. They only added to her overall cuteness.

  Her almond-shaped eyes were almost too large for her thin face, but they somehow made her more beautiful. Her nose was long, leading right to a perfect set of puffy lips that were begging to be kissed. Realizing I was staring at her mouth, she sneered, and I saw a quick flash of metal braces on her teeth.

  She looked like she was going to say something, but the bell interrupted her, making her jump. “Fuck! We’re late!” She grabbed my arm again and pulled me into a jog down a set of stairs, down one corridor, only to turn and go down another. If she hadn’t been with me, I’d be lost. She paused outside a closed door, adjusted her bag, and then glanced back at me, whispering, “Welcome to hell.”

  She pushed open the door and I didn’t have a chance to follow her through before a high-pitched, squeaky voice snapped, “You’re late!” I saw her shoulders tense as she paused for a nanosecond and then raised her eyes to the teacher.

  “Really, Cecelia? I thought you said being in my class wouldn’t be a problem.”

  I noticed Lia’s face begin to change into a tomato. Turning on every ounce of my Southern Boy charm, I stepped around her, smiling at the beanstalk of a woman that had her hands on her hips in a dramatic fashion and was glaring in our direction. “I’m so sorry, ma’am! It’s my fault. I didn’t know where I was going and a teacher asked Lia if she could show me the way.”

  The teacher looked me over and then smiled sweetly. “Well, hello! You must be Nathaniel. The office said you’d be starting today.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at Lia, catching the relief on her face as the teacher led me to an empty seat.

  Once I was settled and the teacher was back at the front of the room, I turned around, pretending to reach into my backpack, but really trying to find Lia. She was in the back of the room, staring at her book, tapping a pencil lightly on her notebook. As if she felt my gaze on her, she glanced up, eyes widening when they met mine. The blush that colored her cheeks as she looked away quickly made me chuckle. That girl was a puzzle, one I couldn’t wait to solve.

  Chapter Three

  ~ Cecelia ~

  Whenever I looked up, the new kid was staring at me. The first time, I had the pathetic excuse of a word problem almost solved and glanced up to see if Ms. Kissmyass – I mean
Ms. Kismosis – and the rest of the class had caught up with me, and there he was, green eyes boring into mine. I was so surprised that I looked back down at my book without ever seeing the whiteboard. Later, I moved my eyes to the clock, anxious for lunch, and found him watching me again. That time, he was the one that looked surprised and turned around quickly. The last was when the bell rang, signaling our lunch break. As I stood, his eyes followed every movement I made until I walked to his desk.

  “You know she’s gonna see you at some point, right?” I asked, referring to our devil reincarnate of a teacher. “You’re not exactly subtle.”

  He shrugged, obviously not having even a shred of the fear he should. Seriously, the woman should teach Occult Studies or Mythology instead of math, it was obvious that she knew more about all that is evil than she did algebraic equations. He’d learn, though, especially if he kept making a point to talk to me.

  “Do you have plans for lunch?” I asked over my shoulder.

  He’d stood up and was following me between the rows of chairs. “I was hoping you’d let me tag along with you.”

  And I was hoping you’d say that, I thought. Trying to hide my smile, I nodded. “I usually grab a slice of pizza or something and sit at a table by myself. My friends have first lunch today, but you are more than welcome to join in my misery.”

  News travels fast in high school, even quicker when the topic of the day is a transfer student that might just be the next football god. So many people stopped him – welcoming him to the school or introducing themselves – on the way into the cafeteria that I lost him. I grabbed my lunch – a small container of fries – and found a couple of empty seats at the end of a table, plopping down to enjoy my greasy mess. I was barely through the first bite when Neil straddled the little round stool across from me.